Stillness

Now that I have had the zipper replaced on my parka, there is an ease at venturing out into the chilly December morning. There is also ease when the wind is at bay, and nothing, not even a spent leaf drops from the trees. Walking though December light, and stillness is a luxury.

It isn’t difficult on these mornings to stay in the moment, and be engaged with the surroundings. The low morning light is golden as it filters sideways through the forest. Though my concentration ebbs as flows between a pop song on repeat between my ears, and just how much sugar and butter I’ll need for a batch of gingerbread men, the surroundings win out. And winning means that I am free of the noise, mental and emotional, to just indulge in the silence.

Our only companions this morning are a flock of angry chickadees reminding me to keep the bird feeder filled. I have fallen behind in this task. Add it to my to do list.

We walk past a field of Napa cabbage, or is it bok choy? It looks good enough to eat.

On some walks I am struck by the shades of earth, taupe and deep dark greys of the horizon, mingling with a crisp distant blue sky, dropped in behind the torn paper cuttings of heavy cloud and fog perhaps rising off of the lake, beyond my view.

There are other moments on our walk, when I wonder what it is that will greet us, in a month or two. Ice encrusted snow? Deep powder? Hard frozen bare land? It will be cold no doubt, and I will be glad that my parka is good for another season. And for now, I’ll stay in the present.